Elizabeth
by Not really Graceful
Summary: OC. Take a dead, twenty-five year old career soldier and stick her in the body of a future one. Slow build up. M for language and future events.


_**A/N: **_New Story. Yay. This will be a bit short, as it is only the prologue, but other chapters should end up in the 5k+ range. If anyone would like to beta, _please_ tell me so. Thank you for checking out Elizabeth!

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. I'm broke. FMA is Arakawa's.

**Summary: **OC Self-Insert. Take a dead, twenty-five year old career soldier, and stick her in the body of a future one. Slow build up. M for language and future events.

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_Elizabeth_

_By: Not Really Graceful_

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Prologue

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Killing- it wasn't anything new to me. Well, except when _I_ was the one being downed by a bullet.

My team was riding our jeep through the desert- Afghanistan, smack dab in the middle- when we were ambushed. Dust was flying everywhere, getting in my eyes, so I heard them before I saw them.

The sound of a gunshot, and then Jenny, our captain, was down, blood gushing from her skull. Another, and we said bye to Andrew- nice, book-smart Andrew with a wife and kid waiting back somewhere in Virginia. He was hit on the neck, and some of the terrible red liquid that signified life, but also death, got splattered all over my face. I'd been sitting next to him, in the back.

I'd turned around by then, incapacitated the one who'd gotten Jenny, and haphazardly wiped some of Andrew's blood from my cheek. Another bullet went flying, hitting Andrew's killer straight through the chest. Blood gushed, and I couldn't help but feel relieved that I was the best sharp-shooter back at camp.

Then the man that I'd previously thought was down for the count aimed his gun at me, and sent a bullet hurtling straight to my face. I didn't even have time to duck.

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I had been twenty-five, I think. Couldn't remember all that many details. Not even my name. But still, I knew a whole lot of information. Like how I grew up in some backwater town in North Carolina. How instead of going to college- I couldn't pay for it, anyway- I joined the military, was sent to Fort Bragg for training, and deployed to my camp in Afghanistan. It had been a real dreary place.

I was promoted multiple times, but I just couldn't remember the rank I had during the ambush.

I could also recall the complex math equations that had always been so easy for me, a few rows of the periodic table, and plots to all the books I read in my free time. Then there were the more random things; my great-grandmother's name was Evelyn, there were seventy-eight small holes in the sheets I used to use, and Christopher Columbus sailed the ocean blue in 1492. Lots of things like that.

The most useful bits of information that I retained happened to be the manga about a pair of brothers named Edward and Alphonse Elric, that I had read when I was twenty three.

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When I was about a year old, here, I finally got it in my stupid head that _yes_, I'd been reincarnated, and _no_, this wasn't some crazy coma, because I had felt that bullet hit smack-dab between my eyes. And it had _hurt like hell._ After that got cleared up (though there'd always be that voice in the back of my mind saying that _this wasn't real_), I realized that no one here spoke English.

It took me a while to pick up the language, but eventually, I did. During that time, I actually regained some mobility- crawling was as good as it got for a while- and started learning to read. It looked a whole bunch like the few Japanese characters that I could remember, and my mother, a very sick woman, helped me learn. She was almost always bedridden, but I liked her a whole lot more than my father- a stern man with a hearty dislike for the military (oh, how_ ironic_).

And she called me Riza, instead of my given name, Elizabeth. I didn't like the name Elizabeth. It was old-fashioned; old-fashioned was not my style.

Eventually, my mother died, whatever sickness she had consuming her. I had been three.

After that, I started sneaking into my father's library. We lived in a very large house; a mansion, even, and I took books off any shelf I could reach, but he never seemed to notice. He had buried himself up to his neck in his work after my mother's death. The only time I ever saw my father- my blonde, scraggly father- was at dinnertime. The maids assisted me with anything else.

At five years old, I found a book, on a higher shelf than I usually nicked mine from. It was worn, like it had been opened many times, perused for hours. And when I finally got it off the shelf, it fell on top of me, right on my toes, leaving me hopping around until the throbbing pain ebbed. A glance towards the offender left me panicked- it read _Beginner's Alchemy_- and I promptly passed out.

That book had _circles_ on it. As in, _FMA circles._

Then everything. Just. Clicked.

I had been reborn. My mother was dead, and my father buried himself in whatever work he did. He also held resentment for the_ State Military_. There were books here about alchemy, real alchemy; not stupid middle-age pseudo-scientists trying to turn lead into gold.

And on all the tags of my quite-nice-if-I-say-so clothes, the name Elizabeth Hawkeye was written. My mom had called me "Riza". _Fuck_.

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_**A/N:**_ Yes, my beautiful OC is now a chibi- Riza Hawkeye, the future sharpshooter. It will build up slowly. But Roy will most likely show up in the next chapter, so do not be afraid! The pairing will most likely end up being Royai, with my oc as Riza.


End file.
